


Arthur's Inferno

by teamfreetitan



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Angst, Curse Breaking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Hell, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Succubi & Incubi, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 16:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18264866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamfreetitan/pseuds/teamfreetitan
Summary: Arthur Kirkland had a book in his bag filled with spells. His arms were scratched from the claws of lesser demons he had summoned. He had a succubus clinging to his arm. Arthur Kirkland laid a foot into Hell, but not for the reasons one might think.. . .This was all just a waiting game. Waiting to see if his brother was alive, or if there was any hope for him. If these sacrifices had been worth it in the end. Arthur held his breath, hesitant to find out the answer.





	Arthur's Inferno

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for clinking on this and giving it a read! It's loosely related to the ideas of Dante's Inferno and the Circles of Hell, and medieval mythology about demons, so I'll put definitions and footnotes in the end notes of each chapter.

Arthur knew something was off the second that he slid into the abandoned house behind his younger brother, Alfred.

It was a hall house, of a typical English style, with its brown timber frame, off-white walls, and thatched roof. This house was merely one of many which had been left behind to rot the past winter. A ghastly series of blizzards had taken hold of the countryside, which was an anomaly on its own in this part of the country. Needless to say, everyone who could had fled, and those who couldn't, well... They starved. Their crops perished and they couldn't traverse the land to gather fire wood. A sad tale, of course, Arthur knew, but it was convenient for him at the moment.

Alfred and Arthur were travelers. They had no home of their own and often relied on begging for strangers or theft to simply eat. He should have felt guilty each time he broke into some defenseless home to steal bread or killed a chicken from a stranger's yard, but Arthur was apathetic to the potential suffering it caused to others. These people they stole from had farms and animals, but Arthur had the bag on his back, a spare change of clothes, and many clinking glass bottles. No money. No food. Nothing of sustenance. He needed to eat, and so did his younger brother. Alfred was always hungry, always growing. And damn him if Arthur was going to let either of them go hungry. Not when it was his fault they were landless wanderers in the first place, but that was another can of worms he didn't need to focus on at the moment.  
  
As he had entered the home, he had smelled the distant smell of smoke. Peculiar, he couldn't help but think. There were still patches of snow on the ground from the last frost, and everyone had deserted the area, leaving it desolate. No signs of life presented themselves, so where was the smoke coming from? Arthur had told himself it was his wild imagination again.

He should have known better.

Alfred had gone inside first, and Arthur hadn't even mentioned the faint smell of smoke, casting it off as irrelevant. A spark of wild thought and nothing more. But this home was a hall home. The traditional style of home featured the hall, a wide living space with a fire place in the center, and to the sides there were pantries and other small rooms. Most families would huddle around their little fire places to cook, eat, pray, and talk, restocking the flames when they threatened to dwindle. As soon as Alfred stepped inside the hall house, he was met with smoke and bright, hot light. A man at the fire place looked up.

Arthur knew something was very, very wrong when his eyes met the man's.

He watched as Alfred's body gave out underneath him. There was no reason it should have; he had eaten just that morning, and his frame was big and strong. All things considered, he was pretty healthy. As annoying as the condensed smoke was to the lungs, it certainly shouldn't have made him faint instantly. Arthur threw himself onto the ground after his brother, pushing his blonde bangs away from his face, tapping his cheek gently to awaken him. His chest rose and fell with a steady pace, but there was no response, not even movement of the eyes under his eyelids. The flickering shadows of the fire didn't help any, only making it harder for Arthur to get a good look at his face.

"Help!" Arthur exclaimed to the man, but he seemed disinterested.

The man stood. He was taller than even Alfred, hovering high above Arthur as he sprawled himself across the floor. Platinum blonde hair sat tucked behind his ears so Arthur could get a clear look of his face. His violet eyes were sunken into his face, decorated by purple bags. Prominent cheekbones jutted out from the side of his face. Instead of showing the same distress Arthur had, he squatted down next to the brothers and set the back of his hand against Alfred's cheek. A smile threatened to tug at his pink lips.

"Do you know the things he thinks?" the man asked. This caused Arthur to divert his attention away from Alfred's unconscious frame and towards the man. What sort of question was that? Yet, his suspicious had already been aroused. Arthur had seen enough supernatural beings and felt enough supernatural energy in his life to be severely thrown off by just the simple nearness of this man. If he could read Alfred's thoughts from merely touching his cheek, Arthur knew this was a man he had to be afraid of. Your run of the mill demon or spirit was weak, and it took fine-tuned skills to hone in on their maleficent energy. Here, Arthur could feel it radiating towards him from across Alfred's body, as if his nerves were being bitten by frost. "He's cold," the man added, flipping his hand around to cup the young man's face.

Arthur jumped back as he saw Alfred's body burst into flames. He pressed his back against the wall to put as much distance between them as possible. The man rose, looking at Arthur across the flames.

"He'll be okay, don't worry," said the man.

"Who are you?"

A forced smile stretched across the man's lips before he bowed his head down. "Introductions, right. I'm so sorry to have forgotten. Ivan Braginski, Prince of Hell." He held his hand out across the fire, palm up, as if it were some sort of symbol of solidarity. "I best be off now." The Prince of Hell leaned forwards to pick up Alfred's flaming - but unscathed - body. When Arthur moved forward to grab at him, he felt his body pinned to the wall by an unseen force.

"I'll find you!" he threatened.

Ivan smiled at him. "I'll see you in Hell in your own due time, Arthur Kirkland."

 


End file.
